Enlisted
by Felicie Senta
Summary: ...I should probably introduce myself. I mean, what are you going to do if you find out I’m lying to you? Heck, you are just a person who I didn’t really care about. Name’s Jack. Jack Hunt. Watch yourself now, I bite...
1. Chapter 1: Fall

**Disclaimer: Oskar Schindler was a real person, so no one really OWNS him. And Jack is my own, so no using him. Just clearing that up ;]**

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Shall I begin at the beginning or the end?

But that does not matter, for both are always the same.

Shall I lie and say bravery was reflected in my eyes?

Or speak only truths of the piss that wet my pants in the face of death?

Then again, I should probably introduce myself. I mean, what are you going to do if you find out I'm lying to you? Hell, you are just a person who I didn't really care about. Name's Jack. Jack Hunt. Watch yourself now, I bite.

"Hey, you arsehole, pick up the shovel or I'm going shoot your brains out. Yeah, that's right, pick it up!"

I'm twenty-eight years old. Yeah, pretty young to be threatening people's lives, huh? Well, not really. Oh, hell, there goes that arsehole again.

"Pick it up!"

What's that he said? No? I'll give him the answer he deserves.

"Freakin' little arsehole got what he deserved..."

The shovel makes a fine weapon in fine hands. Ugh, the arsehole got blood on my nice, clean uniform. Do these Jews have any respect for me? Nah, they don't. But they don't know me. The real me.

I'm not all tough, you know. I have got a wife and a baby and a Jewish grandmum. Well, I'm not complaining. I mean, I'm up here, they're down there. Safe, right?

Not quite.

Having a dead Jewish grandmum makes me a target. A target that is damn hard to hit, but a target all the same. Oh, what the hell is the commanding officer yelling at me now?

Something to do with...? What? Get my skinny arse of the...? The wood is going to collapse? Oh, hell!

XxXxX

Where am I?

Ow, alright. Don't move. Got it.

Why you looking at me strange, like I'm in trouble?

What's your name? Yeah, you. Who else?

Oskar Schindler. Nope, never heard of you.

I would tell you my name, if it didn't hurt to talk.

Hell, no! I'm not risking my life for some Jews. Oh, _great_! I hurt the guy's feeling when I glared at him. Sorry, sorry, sorry. So, what happened to me? The freakin' building collapsed on me! And I lived? I must be some miracle guy to live through that fall. I'm a lucky arsehole, got that right. Hey, Oskar, do I look bad?

"Am I still dashingly handsome?"

Oh, look, I got you to smile a little bit. I really shouldn't try talking; it hurts like hell. Can you get me a mirror? Okay, fine, just sit there and stare at me with your big eyes. Stop asking me to join you! I can't, alright? I'm just a Nazi soldier. Stop fighting for my support as if I was a king or something.

Let's say you are right. That the Nazis are bad, Jews good . What am I, one little soldier, going to do? _Fuhrer_ could probably flick me off the board. Why are you even here? Stop pleading; it is making my stomach hurt, though I'd never admit that.

Why did you pick me? What do I have on me that clearly says I'm of Jewish blood? What sign is hung around my neck that is invisible to me? Wait, don't go... I do kinda want company...

"Wait."

Ugh, my voice is weak and strained. There you go; come on, turn around and look at me. I might actually talk. Surprise, surprise, huh?

"Why me?"

You are sitting down now; I know I'm in for a long talk.

So, let me get this straight, you chose me because I'd be a good figurehead? Are you freakin' serious? A _figurehead?_ Ow, being sarcastic hurts.

"What if I join?"

Okay, you're looking at me all hopeful now... You can stop anytime. But the hope stops my heart for a moment. Yeah, I get it. Love lives on, hate dies... I heard it all before... What you say your name was again?

My head is spinning like I was drinking. Ow, stop... Hell, I got to stop jumping off things, you know?

You are getting up again. Hey now, I'm not done with you...

Look at me! That's better.

The words are ramming into my lips; they want freedom.

"Fine, I'll join you. But what the hell does a figurehead _do_?"

XxXxX

My leg hurts.

My finger hurts.

My body is aching.

Hey, nurse, can you get me some of that sleepy pain medicine?

Yeah, a figurehead. Great job, right? Supposedly, I'm just supposed to look attractive and show the Jews I'm "friendly". Ha, friendly. What the hell does that mean anymore?

I think that Schindler guy's heart is in the right place, but his head is definitely not screwed on tight enough. _Fuhrer_ can't be overrun by one man. He's supposed to be... What is he supposed to be?

Everything is slipping through my fingers and I can't catch it. No, come back!

Even when my eyes are closed, I can see the hope in Schindler's eyes. Stop it. No, I don't want to see it anymore. It keeps playing over and over again...

My whole body twitches. Ow... Nurse!

Convulsions are shaking my body. Blackness is seeping in my vision. I wonder if I look the same... Where's Lisle and Hamnet?

Huh? Nurse lady, why you calling for the doctor? I'm fine... Just a bit tired... Hey, stop poking me...

Ew, what the hell did you just made me drink? Can I at least get some water to wash it down? Hey, you, what are you still...?

XxXxX

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**_I'm really sorry if this doesn't correspond with the movie at all. I've never seen the movie before but I needed a place to post this and Schindler is a main charcter. And updates may take a bit. Please Read and Review. I don't care if the reviews are bad or good. And, by the way, this IS NOT MY USUAL WRITING. This just a new format I'm using for this story. _**

**_Yours,_**

**_Fel_**


	2. Chapter 2: Discover

Shut up. I'm not weak.

I passed out for a bit, is all. What about you? What are you going to do after I blow off your head with a bazooka?

Schindler is back, I see. I would wave to him but a feeling of fatigue is passing over me.

Ha, not really. I just don't feel like waving.

Does that guy ever not look depressed? Come on, old boy, cheer up! Life is not all that bad. Well, half the time.

I bolt upward, gasping as I remember Lisle and Hamnet. Where are they?

Schindler restrains me with gentle, forceful hands. Lay back. Stay calm. Is that all you can say? Where is my family?

I sink down again. It's alright; they are safe at home. Safe, safe, safe. Home, home, home. Warm safe...Wait, what? Warm home... that's it.

Why is my head pounding? You, tell me why. At least my mouth feels better, stronger.

"When do I get out of here?"

Why you are you looking down? I don't want your pity. Go throw it at someone else, Schindler!

I'm completely wrapped in bandages. Bruises are running up and down my visible skin.

"My leg..."

Where the hell is my leg? What the hell did you do to it? Look at me and tell me where you put my damn leg!

It's gone!? Why did you let them take it? It was mine! It's all stu mpy, just a half of a leg...

What am I going to do now? Limp around for the rest of my life? Might as well call me Gimpy from now on, huh?

Jack. Oi, your voice sounds anguished when you say my name. They are still making you work.

Oh, I guess I'm not getting off being a Nazi that easily. Figures, right?

You still want _me _to be the figurehead, even after I got my freakin' leg cut off? The Nazi job is dangerous enough, without getting even more involved with some plot to bring the Jews to... your factory, huh? Sounds like fun. Not for me, though.

I know, I know. It wasn't _your _fault I got my leg cut off, but why? It was there before I fell asleep.

Ugh, your voice is fading from my ears. Are you walking away or is just the ringing in my head?

So, you're saying that my leg got infected and the only way to save me was to cut it off? Well, that's great.

Now, I'm a tad angry. Well, more than a tad. Maybe _a lot._

Is it really worth it anymore? Why are you asking me?

"Damn, Schindler! I don't know!"

What do I know?

Everything. That's your reply. _Everything._

"Good and bad intertwined, who will draw the delicate line?"

Singing clears my head. La, la, la, la! I'm feeling quite loopy, and I'm slightly worried why.

"I know good is good and bad is bad. So, Schindler, I'm probably going to get my brains shot out before I'm thirty, so I might as well make someone's life worth while."

You're smiling, giggling, and clapping my shoulder. Ow, stop it now. That hurts just a bit. I can't help laughing too.

"Schindler, I believe you got yourself a figurehead."

XxXxX

Commander Johannes Walschaar is visiting, but I tune him out.

I'd rather speak of myself any day. Since you already know my name… It's Jack Hunt, if you forgotten by any chance. And if you have, watch your back. My knife has been a little too bloodless these days.

I have got dirty blond hair, with an odd reddish-brown tint. My eyes are a nice, safe pale blue, with hints of violet and dark blue. Don't I sound presumably handsome?

I would laugh, but Walschaar is still sitting next to me.

What's he droning on about? That I'm an officer now? What?

Hey, I got you laughing with my curious look.

I'm an officer now. I'll be overseeing this camp with Walschaar.

That's why Schindler enlisted me. He knew I'd he kicked up to officer because of my damn leg. What's left of it, at least.

Hey, you, can't you leave already? I got to talk to Schindler. Take a hint.

"Sir, if I could have some time alone with my…my…_'stump'_."

For the first time ever, I saw something of compassion and pity flicker across Walschaar's face.

Ha, Mr. Tough Guy, my arse.

Walschaar left, his freakin' _two _legs bouncing about.

As if on cue, Schindler appeared, something like a smile on his face. He is looking over at my bedside, muttering softly mostly to himself.

"So, you are going to give me a list or something?"

Schindler looked surprised, as if his doings were entirely secret. Secrets don't stay secrets in a Nazi occupied country for long.

"Where this factory of yours anyway? Am I just going to help and make sure you don't get caught?"

Shrugging now, aren't you? So I'm going to help you and you're going to take the Jews to your factory and make them work. But they'll stay alive. Why does your proposition sour my stomach? I believe it is fear that tightens it.

You can't tell me anything until I'm out of bed, just in case they try to question me about anything. I couldn't really run away or anything. Well, then again, I can probably never run again.

Lisle and Hamnet! If I ran…excuse me, _limp _away from the punishment camp, the Nazis would take Lisle and Hamnet. Oh, Hamnet… they would take him to become a Nazi lover and leader. And Lisle, my dear wife… what would they do to you?

Can you comfort me? No, you can't. It is all there in your eyes. The anger, pity, sadness, and fear rushing into those eyes. Do you hate me for what I have done or do you love me for what I will do?

I'm smirking, but the pain that follows is not in my face, but my heart. How can I say no to such a man who is trying so hard to be right in a world of wrongs?

Damn moral is taking over now.

Damn right you are, Schindler. I'm a psychotic idiot who just can't decide. You look, but do you see me?

No, I bet you can't. Just like everyone else. Let me tell you something. My eyes felt cold in my head, like someone had replaced them with chipped ice.

"I'll help you, as I said before, but at a price that you must pay."

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**This will probably be the quickest update on my story. Hope you enjoy it and it left you hanging. Read and Review! I love critisism (Don't know how to spell that actually...)**

**Yours,**

**Fel**


	3. Chapter 3: Compassion

You are looking weary of me now. Don't worry; it's not money I want or something valuable.

You don't believe me? Ha, I must seem like a joke. But I do not jest.

"Protect my family. Please. That is all I want from you. When you are saving the Jews, save my wife and son too because I know I won't be there to do it."

Pity again. _Lovely._ I just want a good, strong yes. Tell me you'll do it. Tell me!

Thank you. I'll do whatever you say now; Hamnet won't be a Nazi, he'll be safe. My boy, my boy…

What is the doctor saying? I can walk in a few days if I use crutches? Give me them now! I can't stand be confined to this white, ugly bed any longer.

Oh, great, I got both of you laughing with my eagerness. I throw a hand on my forehead, trying to look distraught and angry at their laughter.

Schindler and the doctor are gone. The only sound is a faint buzz and I'm dreaming, soft, slow dreams…

_Lisle's blond hair, hanging down her back… Her pale, luminescent hand, stretching gracefully over my tan arm… Lisle smiling down at little Hamnet, so small and tiny in her arms… Hamnet's shallow breathing…_

The dream turns to a nightmare…

_Lisle glaring at me, her blue eyes narrowed with anger… Hamnet gasping for breath, his body racked with convulsion… Tears falling from the sky… Lying alone in a hole, dying, with Lisle standing over me… Hamnet, older, a Nazi armband blazing behind him… Heil Hitler… Heil Hitler… Schindler leaning over me, whispering that I know everything… need to save everyone… _

I wake up, screaming and crying. I try to stand but to no avail, as my one leg collapses beneath me. Keep screaming, keep screaming. Drown your sorrow in noise and pain. Scream!

Hey, Nurse lady, just let me die. Stop trying to lift me up. I won't hush. Don't call for the doctor. I'm fine. Absolutely _fine._

Then again, what the hell does 'fine' mean?

XxXxX

Look where I am! Outside in the cool air, I am limping around with a crutch.

Stop looking at my leg! Sorry, my _stump_.

Schindler gave me his list. He wrote Jack on the top. Will I really assist in helping these people survive?

Ugh, my dream is coming back. Haunts me, you know?

There is a freakin' little Jew putting down his shovel.

"Jew boy, pick up th---."

My breath died with my words. Protect them! Not call them names and force them to work!

I look around, away. I wish myself far away. Somewhere warm with Lisle and Hamnet… I lean against my crutch, thinking cozy thoughts.

What would happen if we didn't kill Jews, but killed the hate? Would the world be a better place? Sure, but isn't the world meant to teach us hate, so we can learn love?

Freakin' unanswered question. What the hell is Jew boy yelling? Last time I hadn't heard someone yelling, I had lost my leg. I hurry over as best as I can.

"What do you want?"

Was my voice too harsh and sharp?You don't seem to believe that Schindler asked me of all people to help you.

"I don't want to tell you my name."

What would happen if you are a spy? I'd be dead, sure as me going to Hell.

Your name is Harrow. You made it up, huh? Why is that? Nope, it's your real name. Odd little bastard, you are.

Check the list for the name… Anya? Got it. What you want to know if she's on the list for anyway?

Oh, she's your sister. What's her age?

Fourteen; Sounds too young to face death. You still want to know my name?

"Jack Hunt."

Hunter is what I am. Are you serious? I am no hunter; I don't hunt you down to kill you, I just call and kill.

A hunter tricks and then kills. Is that right now? Well, call me Jack the Hunter then. And, by the way, my last name is _Hunt _not 'Hunter'.

You say I enjoy the hunt and kill. Sure, right about now I would enjoy killing you.

Now, you're saying I will never love, never find hope, and never find someone to accept me. Hell with you! You don't freakin' know me, so don't condemn me with the others!

"I have a wife and a child. Does having a family make me seem more human to you? Because half of the guards here have families. Don't say I can't love, because I can. I believe in compassion. But do you?"

Oh good God. You're getting angry now because I'm saying you can't show compassion.

"No, you don't show compassion. Do you show compassion to me, someone who is trying to save you?"

Oh, you survive by hardening your heart? That's freakin' stupid.

"Harden your heart, if you wish. Will it ever thaw? Will you ever love again?"

If we were all soft, we would all be dead.

"Fine; harden your heart. Live with death. Die and live with a calculated coldness."

Surviving is all that matters; to be the living witness to this history.

"Then survive with an empty heart and knowledgeable head."

Thank you.

"Why do you thank me?"

Because you showed me a guard does have compassion even if it's buried deep in the confines of his heart. You showed it to me. Can you believe this guy? I don't want any of this mushy crap.

"Then you are welcome, I guess. But act that you do not know me."

You are funny, I give you that. Who are you again? The blankness in your pale brown eyes is very believable.

You are off to work again and I am laughing, as if I am a true Nazi at heart.

First laugh is to the whole freakin' world. Take that.

Second laugh is to Schindler. Bravery takes many forms, does it not?

Third laugh is to Harrow. Compassion and love can be easily mistaken for the same thing.

Fourth laugh is to the whole Nazi enterprise. Do not try to lead me astray, for my feet are glued to the road of goodness. Sorry, mates.

The fifth and final laugh is to me. A Nazi saving Jews, a father saving his son, a husband saving his wife, and a man saving himself.

XxXxX

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**I'm on a freakin' roll! Three chapters in three days. Whoop! Weekends almost over, so it will take more time to write.**

**Yours,**

**Fel**


	4. Chapter 4: Arrivals

Schindler, come on, old dog! Hand in the list already!

You're looking so sad. Is it because that Anya girl died? Hell, Harrow must be angry with me.

Stop crossing out names. It's alright. Here, give me the freakin' list.

_Harrow_. Then _Anya. _Why did Anya have to leave poor Harrow?

Don't look at me like that. I don't _care_ about them, alright?

And don't call me Corporal Hunt either. Damn, Schindler, why do you feel like pissing me off today?

What? I have to hand it in? _You _do, idiot. I can't just go around asking for Jews to work in a factory I don't own!

Yeah, I don't give a damn if I got you mad. Hell, get mad! Get away from me!

It is not fear that makes me like this... It's a sense of belonging.

"I belong with the Germans, the Nazis, and my family."

No, you're shaking your head. I don't belong with them; I belong with the heroes.

_Heroes._ Heroes are a figment of a fearful imagination. Stop freakin' telling me I'm special, because I'm not. I won't ever be.

Shut up already, Schindler.

I said shut up.

Shut the hell up!

Schindler left a long time ago.

XxXxX

Harrow has stopped talking to me. Hey, you, will you talk to me?

It seems I pissed off the world, for both Schindler and Harrow have stopped speaking to me.

Schindler handed in the list. We are to begin moving the Jews out!

You, Schindler, get over here and tell me the plan!

"So what are we going to do?"

I can't help smiling at your answer. Why, Jack, we're going to free the Jewish people from this camp. You're excited; it shines in your eyes.

Saving another life is what we will do.

I have to say your responses give me a chuckle.

"When do we leave?"

Tomorrow sounds so close.

"Schindler, if you could do...do a favor for me...could you save Harrow?"

Thank you, Schindler. For everything.

And, if you're starting to think I'm turning soft, you've got another thing coming.

Harrow is an odd arsehole, that's all.

XxXxX

I am falling behind in the marching of the Jews.

Freakin' leg!

Steady thumps of feet crashing into the ground makes my limp so noticeable. I hate it so much!

Harrow is glancing back at me with something close to worry in his face. Stop pitying me! I don't need your sympathy!

No, don't you dare come back here and help me, arsehole!

"Touch me and I stab you, Harrow."

You're looking uneasy now. Good...Hey, I said don't touch me!

Shut up, Hunt.

Now, that wasn't very nice. Use your manners.

Chuckling now, aren't you? Really, why do people love laughing at me?

Do I look that stupid, limping around on one leg and a crutch?

Seeing as I can do nothing more than sigh, it all I do now, it seems.

I'm just going to blame it all on my leg.

Freakin' leg.

Hell, we're falling behind again!

"Harrow, if we could, um, catch up...?"

You look down. So, you can't exactly carry me and I'm going as fast my leg will allow. Technically, its my fault, but I'd rather blame it on you.

Great, now Schindler is looking around for us. Wave to him, Harrow.

Okay, he sees us now. We must look like a motley crew, huh?

Poor Hamnet. He's now has a gimpy father who is a complete hothead.

And Lisle. Don't think about Lisle's reaction.

Trying not to think of Lisle's reaction...

Still trying...

Shit...

Stop thinking about it now!

Phew, that was a close one. Harrow here started prodding me when I went numb. Thank God for that little bastard.

I'm getting tired, but I have to push on.

Psh, to hell with it all! That's what I say.

Finally, we are stopping!

In front of a factory...Is this Schindler's factory?

Well, look at that! Some of the workers are peeking out.

Yeah, that's right! Take in my Nazi uniform and blue eyes and blond hair!

You have got yourselves some new arrivals!

XxXxX

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**Sorry! This one is really short because I wanted to finish it. I'm thinking about ending this in... about one more chapter. Plus an epilogue. Please R&R!**

**Yours,**

**Fel**


	5. Chapter 5: Safe

I'm leaning up against a lovely makeshift stool. It is just for me.

Freakin'_ lucky_ me.

The Jews are dressed in clothing and look well fed. Nothing like their unfortunate kinfolk in the camps. Harrow is getting along fine, but I see the unhappiness of his sister's death writ clearly across his face. Does death always bring along sadness?

No. If Hitler died, everyone would rejoice. Well, except his Nazis, seeing as they'd be killed.

I'd be killed too, huh?

'Now that we arrived, Schindler has been hurrying around in fine clothing, twittering from person to person. He doesn't have time for the likes of me. I dont give a damn, actually.

Well, maybe I do.

A teensy, tiny bit.

Okay, fine, a tiny bit.

_Fine._ A lot, alright?

Come on. Calm down. Cool it.

Harrow hasn't spoken to me much either. Then again, I did threaten to stab him. Hm, now that I think about it...

I shake my head. Stay focused; but what is there to be focused about?

This internal struggle was tugging at my heart and brain. My stomach is not handling it well.

Schindler seems nervous and fidgety in his movements for some odd reason. Old arsehole must be getting the shakes or something.

My elbows are getting tired of leaning up against this wooden stool. Hey, one of you Jews, give me my crutch or help to my chambers.

That's better; I'd rather have my crutch anyway. Freakin' people.

As I struggle to my room, I feel peaceful. Huh. It's a funny feeling; being here, with all these people I was originally designated to kill.

Odd feeling really. Especially since I call everyone here either arsehole or bastard. But, hey. Can't always be the nicest Nazi in the box, you know?

I finally—and I mean, _finally_—reach my room, I have to take a step back and study it. It's an old workroom so it's got lots of movement space for my leg. My one freakin' leg. Then, in the back corner, is my blue-sheeted bed and desk. I got to limp all the way over there, though, to get to it.

Phew.

That took the breath right from my lungs, getting my arse all the way over to my bed. I can plop down now.

Everything is quiet, except the steady drone of the workers. They remind me of the bees I use to chase in the summers of my childhood. The bees would work together for their queen, whereas the Jews work for their God. Or whatever.

I got to stop rambling sometimes. I do it all the time, I know.

And when I'm tired, I ramble for hours. Just ask my sister...Well actually you can't.

I'm tired.

And still rambling.

Night.

XxXxX

Knock, knock.

Who's there?

A man with a swastika on each arm.

A man with a swastika on each arm who?

A man with a swastika on each arm who means us harm.

Oh, really? But I'm right here. Oh, that Nazi. Whoops. What is he doing here? And all those soldiers?

Oh, shit. This can't be good.

I'm limping out and I can see the soldiers, giggling behind hands and pointing at my damned leg.

_Come on now, Jack, hold your head high. Was that not the point in being a soldier? Being able to straighten your back and hold your head?_

One soldier was _kind_ – notice my sarcasm – enough to point me out. Did he really juts call me 'respectable-looking'?

The leader strode up to me and looked into my blue eyes. I stared back defiantly– see, this is where my 'bravery' comes in!

Did you just command them to shoot me on your command?

Oh, good God, have mercy on my shit soul.

This is where that piss comes in handy.

Shit, there it goes. Ew, wetting my pants in front of a captain was not on my list of things to do.

Oh, this is just _great. _A short, stout little soldier just lifted his gun and is poiting it at my head. My head is not a target. I repeat: My head is not a target.

Schindler is rushing forward, shoving his way next to me.

I'm laughing.

Hysterically.

The captain is thrusting his face into mine.

Yeah, that's right, wipe of the spit from your cheek.

Shoot him.

That command stops my heart, literally.

As the bullets sting me, I fall, my eyes catch Schindler speaking rapidly to the captain. He shrugs, speaks softly to his soldiers, and they file out.

Two by two. . .

Harrow and Schindler are at my side, but, the blood has already been spilled. Red, vibrant, beautiful red, stains the dusty floor.

Lisle, I'm sorry. My dear Hamnet. . . No words can express my grief.

Harrow, don't try to save me. . . I'm too far gone. Thanks, anyway, you odd bastard.

Even in death, Schindler, you saved me from what I could have become. You saved me from becoming the monster I was trained to be. No matter who you save after me, remember that you saved not only lives, but, histories. You saved me from shame.

"Thank you."

My body is limp and I'm falling through a chasm. My body hits the ground and my last few breaths disappear with the wind.

_Safe, at last._

XxXxX

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**And so lies a hero among villains. Sorry for the late update; I've been really busy with editing my novel. R&R and watch for the epilogue.**

**Yours,**

**Fel**


	6. Intermission: Author's Note

_**Intermission **_

Enlisted's Playlist 

Loser by Cute Is What We Aim For

Born to Lead by Hoobastank

Without a Fight by Hoobastank

You're Gonna Go Far, Kid by The Offspring

Colorado Sunrise by 3OH!3

Hero of War by Rise Against

Bricks by Rise Against

The Hell Song by Sum 41

Liar (It Takes One to Know One) by TakingBackSunday

Miami by TakingBackSunday

Five Becomes Four by Yellowcard

Come Home by OneRepublic

**I'm trying to write the epilogue but I can't get it right. So, I started a little chapter through Schindler's eyes. It will give more insight on Jack and what everything is like with more description.**

**Thanks,**

**Fel**


	7. Chapter 6: Schindler's Eyes

No, not him.

No.

Why must the youngest, the greatest be the first to die? Why must a cold hand reach inside and rip a soul from a lively person? Like Jack.

His laughing eyes still glowed, staring blankly. He was still Jack. . . But not the same Jack. I remember the way his grin was colored with sharp malice and when it softened to somewhat recognizing affection when he saw me.

"Is he. . . dead?" Harrow's voice reached my aching mind.

"I believe so." I replied, my tongue swiping across my lip, concentrating on the curled figure in front of me.

"Jack. . . How could someone like Jack die? He was _invincible._" Harrow kneeled next to me, touching the soldier's forehead. Even as Jack was in pain from the bullet, he tried to withstand it and hold his head high. Unflinchingly. But his eyes betrayed his pain. He was always a soldier, never a Nazi.

"He was human," I softly corrected, "and a good one, at that."

I will always remember him. He was all fire; Most people were fire and ice, but he was all fire, burning hot rage. He was angry and satire but understanding and compassionate. All the way through to his core, he burned brightly; he didn't fade or smother out when the times changed or the game got harder. He kept going.

"Jack." I shook him hard. Hoping.

Silence.

Silence is sometimes the loudest noise, so icily clear and clogging. It filled your lungs like smoke and rang in your ears. It was woeful and furious. But most of all, it was quiet. Dead. Numb.

I rolled Jack—Jack's body—over. He was no longer Jack; he was an empty shell. Steaming hot blood flowed onto the floor from a wound in his left side. Harrow placed his forefinger and thumb next to the gaping wound and examined it closely.

"Mister Schindler. . ." he touched my shoulder.

I held up a hand, "No, I have failed. Let me brew on this thought so maybe I can keep the promises I made to him."

"Promises?"

"Yes. To keep you and his family safe."

"Me?" Harrow drew back and glanced down at the figure on the floor. A single tear slid down his cheek, dropping into the blood. It spread out, reaching clear tentacles out through the crimson before being swallowed by it.

"He cared for you, even though he had the strangest way of showing it." I sighed, my hands hot against his cold skin. He was no longer fire; he was fading to icy oblivion.

I grabbed his shoulders and shook Jack, "Come on, Jack. For Hamnet, for Lisle, for Harrow, for _me_. I need you."

Something flickered, like a flame regaining life and movement. A blue eye popped open and a snicker filled the now-empty room.

"Well, arsehole, if you needed me, why didn't you just say so?"

* * *

**Jack is back! I couldn't leave him dead for long.**

**Love,**

**Fel3**


End file.
